


The Sacrifice of Basil Hallward

by princedave



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consumption, Faustian Deal, Kinda, M/M, Witchcraft, tuberculosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:29:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princedave/pseuds/princedave
Summary: In which Basil makes a deal to protect his dying friend





	The Sacrifice of Basil Hallward

The flowers were blossoming with reckless shades of pink and blue when Basil first noticed the change in his friend. He had known Dorian for only a short time, and yet he could sense when something was wrong in the boy. Over the past few weeks since her had painted Dorian’s portrait, Basil observed an uncharacteristic pale touch to the boy’s complexion, along with a decline in appetite and subsequent weight. He was not a man inclined for confrontation, though it was when he noticed Dorian coughing specks of blood into his handkerchief that he realised that something had to be done.  
Some ten years ago, when Basil himself had been only Dorian’s age, he had known a boy by the name of Victor. Victor had been a kind, intelligent presence in Basil’s life, constantly researching and writing, determined, with an optimistic future of scientific discovery ahead of him. Dorian had reminded Basil of Victor in many aspects, and perhaps that was why he had surreptitiously fallen in love with him so quickly and so easily. He saw in Dorian the innocence and fascination he had known in Victor, the soft love he had shared with him for such a short and sacred period of time.  
The illness had taken over Victor quickly and mercilessly, his body fading before Basil’s eyes in a matter of weeks. He had stayed with him as he died gently, the echoes of his harsh coughing and struggled breathing haunting Basil for years after. He slept by his side until the end, half out of need to comfort his love, half out of a desire to contract the illness himself, so he too may die and never be apart from his Victor. Life managed to separate the two boys after a drawn out, painful several weeks.

To watch the same disease take the life of his new friend, Basil could not do. He had little idea of what he could do to save Dorian when he remembered a piece of gossip Henry had informed him of.  
“There are rumours that Miss Lucille practices dark magic in her town house, do you know?” He had said offhand, cigarette loosely pinched between his fingers. “You know her, she was here for dinner last September, rather boring conversationalist, I thought.”  
Basil had thought little of this rumour at the time, dismissing it as fantasy, though now he wondered whether there was a semblance of truth to what he had heard. He sent an invitation to the woman immediately.

Miss Lucille was a stout old woman, with a wrinkled, yet kindly face, and long silver hair tucked up in an elaborate style.  
“Mr Hallward, what a pleasure it was to receive your invitation,” she’d beamed, and her sweet nature was almost disappointing to Basil, who supposed the rumours had been fantasy after all.  
He had sat her down with a cup of tea and made effort to create arbitrary conversation with her before he broached his true reason for having her over. Though he was careful in his speak, he could sense that Miss Lucille could tell there was something pressing he wished to ask.  
“Miss Lucille, I have a confession to make,” he began after they had finished their tea. He lowered his voice and leant forward to her, and her eyes watched him attentively. “Forgive me, but what I ask, I ask based on certain… particulars I have heard about you.”  
The woman seemed unfazed by this, and in fact she appeared to nod, as though confirming what he suspected to be true.  
“You see, Miss Lucille, I have a friend. A dear, dear friend who means ever so much to me,” he said, swallowing his fears in a hope to simply say what he needed to say. “And he is ill. Mortally ill. I am sure he will not have longer left at all unless something is done.” He paused, musing over his next words. “I am prepared to do anything- give anything for his life to be protected.”  
At this the old woman smiled, her grin spreading wide across her face. She nodded slowly at the desperate man before her, and stood from the armchair in which she had been residing.  
“My deepest sympathies, Mr Hallward,” she spoke, sympathy laced with a sinister undertone. “You say you would give anything?”  
Basil swallowed, though nodded without hesitation.  
“Life is a very delicate thing,” the woman said in an offhand manner. “To protect it can be rather expensive.”  
Miss Lucille began to wander around the parlour, before peering at the picture of Dorian Gray, temporarily hung on the wall, waiting to be sent to its likeness. She smirked at the portrait in a disgusting fashion, fingers outstretched as though she were about to stroke the painted face before her.  
“Is this your friend?” She asked.  
“Yes, that is Dorian.”  
“It would be a shame to watch such a pretty face fade to illness and age.”  
“It would.”  
The woman turned away from the picture abruptly and turned to Basil with a darkness in her eyes.  
“For your hospitality, Mr Hallward, I will make it so he never grows another day older, nor expires from any illness.”  
Basil blinked, his heart pounding in his chest at her words. They brought him comfort, though also fear, and he took a moment of silence to compose his thoughts before he spoke.  
“How would you do that?”  
Miss Lucille turned to the portrait and this time pressed her hand over the canvas face, muttering some indiscernible words. Basil swore he could see a pale blue light emanating from the portrait as she did this, though he made no comment of it and simply waited with bated breath.  
Once she was finished, the woman faced Basil once more.  
“From this day onwards, this painting will take on every year of age, every imperfection, every illness and every sin that your friend would otherwise fall victim to.”  
She gestured to the portrait, which already took on a slightly paler hue. The change would have been unnoticeable if Basil had not witnessed it happen right in front of him. He trembled in fear at the woman, though she smiled blithely at him, as though nothing of any importance had happened at all.  
“It has certainly been a lovely afternoon Mr Hallward, though I really must be on my way,” she said, and trance-like, Basil escorted her to the front door. It had scarcely registered with him what he had done- and likely it never truly would. He waved the woman off as she began to scuttle away, before she faced him for a final time.  
“I perhaps was unclear in my form of payment Mr Hallward,” she said sheepishly, though the man was hardly listening. “The hospitality you provide may be your downfall.”  
Basil looked at her and simply smiled, having forced himself to forget what he witnessed Miss Lucille do less than five minutes ago. “What do you mean?” He asked.  
Miss Lucille took a breath.  
“He is a lucky boy to have such a hospitable friend,” she returned. “It is a shame that people take advantage of such kindness.”  
She trundled away as she poke these final words, leaving Basil alone on his doorstep. Though he could not know why, he felt euphoric, and he headed back to the parlour where the painting resided. He sat with it a moment, admiring its beauty and thinking fondly of his dear friend.  
No sooner than an hour later did his friend arrive to his house for an impromptu visit, looking the picture of perfect health and youth.


End file.
